Take it from his Whisper
by lilabut
Summary: Bella and Jacob discover the serious aspects of childhood activities.


I was given the following prompt and this is the result.

_Bella and Jacob playing with sidewalk chalk (not as kids). Serious conversation ensues._

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* * *

**T a k e. i t. f r o m. h i s. W h i s p e r.

If I walk down this hallway tonight it's too quiet  
So I pad through the dark and call you on the phone  
Push your old numbers and let your house ring  
Until I wake your ghost

I think last night, you were driving circles around me

_**Your Ghost**_, Damien Rice

Bella hated the chalk in her hand – the dusty smears it left on her pale skin. The faint layers of mint green, bright pink, baby blue and bright yellow coloured her hands as if she had a very serious, disgusting, painful, terminal disease and for the moment, Bella almost felt as if she did. From time to time a shudder would run down Bella's spine, causing her skin to erupt in goose bumps for only a mere second. It was the horrific scratching feel of her fingernails accidentally digging into the porose chalk, the stump giving in under the pressure and leaving behind fine debris of colourful chalk beneath Bella's short nails.

To be quiet honest with herself, Bella had to admit that she had never felt as uncomfortable in her own skin as she was in this moment. Not only did she kneel on the cold asphalt outside of Jacob's house, her knees already aching from the rough pressure, but she also had bright pieces of chalk in her hands, the dusty debris covering various pieces of her clothing and skin.

"Bells come on! Stop it"

Jacobs voice was oozing with excitement – the kind of happy tone that allows one to see the smile with only the ear – and Bella could see him bounce slightly (as much as that was possible in their current positions) from her peripheral vision.

"Stop _what_, exactly?" she asked, her own voice so different from Jacob's that she immediately felt a twitch of guilt at the venom and obvious annoyance that emphasised her question.

"You're totally killing the mood here. With all your glaring and sighing and groaning – do you think I don't see or hear any of that? You might as well be yelling at me right now. And that sucks, Bells. I'm trying to have a good time here, you know?"

"I'm killing _what_? What mood, Jake? This is so ridiculous it would be funny if my hands weren't all smeared and my knees hurt," Bella complained loudly now that there was no more need for any restraint.

"Come on, Bells. If you keep telling yourself this it can't ever be fun," Jake said delightedly, winking at Bella before continuing with his artistic effort on the – for once – dry asphalt.

"Kids do this, Jake."

"So?"

"This is like… as if you were watching _Sponge Bob_."

"Hey, _Sponge Bob_ is classy. Don't say anything against him. Embry would totally kill you if he heard that."

Bella groaned and it sounded more like a menacing growl, which – again – caused Jacob to laugh.

"Quil should do this himself," she added, finally, carelessly and without any kind of inspiration rubbing the yellow chalk against the rough asphalt.

"Bells, he's taking Claire to the beach. He asked me do draw the street for him and so that's what I do. I owe him."

"Why?" Bella asked, her voice suddenly hinting at the curiosity that fit the bright chalk in her hand.

"Pack stuff," Jacob answered shortly, much to Bella's dismay and she huffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"What exactly is that, what you're drawing there, Jake?" she asked as she – bored from the glaring Jake had complained about – shot a glance towards what Jacob was currently smearing onto the deserted street. It looked strangely like a form of human being, yet with too many and too malformed limbs and a head that was about five times the size of the body.

"It's a tree. What else do you think it is?" Jacob asked, leaning back to eye his work from a certain distance, tilting his head to the side.

Bella could not help but snort, and suddenly a fit of laughter overwhelmed her. Before long, she was crouching on the street, holding her stomach as she convulsed and shrieked hysterically, not caring the slightest that she was smearing her white blouse with the colourful chalk, making herself look like a piece of art of her own.

Jacob simply kneeled on the street, looking down at Bella in disbelieve, his eyes wide and his face plain. For the first few seconds he was afraid that she might actually have a seizure or something, but when he was able to make out words like _tree, art, stupid, creature_ and _pathetic_ between her hysterical laughter, the worried part of his mind calmed down and he simply stared at Bella.

It lasted only a few minutes, this rare sight. And it made Jacob's heart warmer than it had been any time he had seen merely the hint of a smile on Bella's usually stone cold features. _Those lips_ – it made him feel such a relief that those lips were actually able to form a full-mouthed smile.

Slowly, the laughter grew quieter and Bella started to straighten herself again, tears swelling in her eyes and some tracks glistening on her brightly flushed cheeks. Her hair was a mess, her clothes smeared.

To Jacob, it was beautiful. Nothing but a work of art.

He continued to stare at her and when Bella had regained enough control to focus on her surroundings, she met his gaze with a fire in her eyes that had probably never been there before.

"What?" she asked as if nothing had happened, pushing her hair out of her face with her colourful hands.

All of a sudden, like an explosion or the bite of a mosquito, anger started to boil in Jacob's veins, causing his entire form to tremble with the anticipation of the burst that threatened to take control of him.

"Jake?"

He could see the worry in her eyes, the way her body started to stiffen again. Always tense.

"Are you mad at me? Because I laughed at your…tree? Jake?"

Jacob tried hard to remain in control of his senses, of his willpower, but the sudden return of the usual sad, burdened look on Bella's face only heightened his struggle to stay human. Safe.

"Jake?"

Still no answer. He could not talk. Not right now. He did not have that much control over his instincts.

But Bella understood. She might not have known what exactly was going on, what all this was about suddenly – why the mood had changed, why she felt different, why everything was so tense and awkward – but she knew how to behave around Jacob in moments like this. When he was on the brink of his greatest fear – losing himself, _disappearing_, like he had once phrased it.

Not questioning him any further, Bella took the green chalk from his hand, the porose material already giving in under the force with which Jacob grabbed it.

There was once thing she could save, after all. And so, with great concentration, Bella began to work on the strangely-shaped-want-to-be-a-tree-image on the asphalt. There was not much to rescue, but when Bella sat back on her heels a few minutes later, she was satisfyingly relieved with her achievement. At least, it now looked as if it _could_ be tree.

"I hate him," Jacob whispered behind her and the bitter gaze she met when she turned around immediately made Bella understand. She knew exactly whom Jacob was talking about.

"You would have been like this all the time if he hadn't… you could have been happy. Easy. And not such a freaking mess. It's still there inside of you. But you are too damn bitter to let it free, Bella. Can't we just be _normal_?"

Another explosion. Another mosquito bite.

"Jake…"

"No, don't _jake_ me. I'm sick of it, Bella. You know what I want? The truth. You just gave me a hint of it and what now? We just go back to normal? To whining and crying and sitting in my garage all day like mourners? Screaming in your sleep? Is that how it's always going to be, Bella?"

His entire body still tense, Jacob grabbed the chalk out of Bella's hand and began to draw abrasive lines onto the asphalt, trying to make out the concept for a post office that was still lacking in this imaginary chalk town on the street.

"You always have me thinking that maybe I made it, that _I_ redeemed _his_ mistake. And for that second I'm happy and then you simply go back to the way it was. Always. You constantly let me down. All I want is for you to be the person you could have been, Bella. It's making me sick that I can't seem to change anything. It's like a freaking broken record, Bella. And I can't stand the song anymore."

Each of his furious, pain-filled words was emphasized by an angry line on the asphalt, word by word forming a new picture – an addition to the big puzzle.

"You do change things, Jacob," Bella whispered, sounding almost a little afraid of the effect her words might have on him.

"And what is that?"

The rough, harsh movements of Jacob's hand distracted and disturbed Bella and so she did the only things she felt she needed to do. _Wanted_ to do. Gently and hesitantly, she rested her hand on Jacob's, their joined hands drawing the picture together for a few seconds before they stilled to a gentle halt.

"I'm not afraid anymore. Not when I'm with you," Bella murmured quietly, her lips moving close to Jacob's ear, careful to make him feel her every word. Literally. Her breath fanning across his sensitive skin.

"What were you afraid of?" he asked, biting his lower lip and Bella began to stroke her thumb across the palm of Jacob's hand.

"The future. I know that I'm not going to be alone. You make me feel safe, Jacob. And that's more than I ever dreamed could happen to me. And all I can give you right now."

"Ever?" Jacob whispered, fear mixing with sadness in his voice and he turned his head to look Bella in the eyes, searching for any kind of confirmation for her answer.

"I don't think so. You make me feel better every day. But I can't tell you _when_ I'm ready. For anything. And I don't want you to wait on me, Jacob."

"I think it's still my choice to decide what to do with all my time," Jacob answered, the faint hint of his trademark smile slowly returning onto his lips.

"I guess," Bella whispered, leaning forward to brush her lips against Jacob's forehead. As soft and light as a feather. A whisper.

"Please, just tell me I won't be old and grey, Bells."

A last explosion. A final mosquito bite.

They both started to laugh at the same time, clinging to each other like the mourners Jacob spoke of earlier.

But for once in their lives, they were not mourning anything. There was still an open chance. Open possibilities and many obstacles to overcome. Together.


End file.
